One too many
by Thewallflowerwriter
Summary: Joe decides that extra help is needed on the job and partners up the men with some women he hired. But not all goes to plan, things start to fall apart very quickly. Leading to two unsuccessful jobs and six dead bodies.


They all sat around the table, Joe at the head, then Mr. White and Mr. Blonde on either side. The conversation had been quite normal until Joe had mentioned it. Mr. Brown had been in the middle of talking to Mr. Pink when he said it. Both of them now stared in disbelief at Joe. How could he suggest something like that? Was he out of his mind? No, because he repeated the same sentence again so everyone understood.

"I've paired you all with a woman for this job."

Joe hadn't meant for his speech to be as spontaneous as it was. It was just no-one would stop talking and let him speak. So there it was, a girl for every guy. Expecting the reaction Joe took the chance to explain his decision.

"These women are experts in surveillance, and that's something we need on this job. To know the whereabouts of everything, the ins and outs of the place, it's what these women specialise in. Now, you've all got one of them, I put you with the one about your age so you would connect better." Joe found it hard to say connect. No-one was supposed to connect on this job, yet there he was, making them all get close to somebody.

"Joe, I don't know what you think you're doing but this is a huge fucking mistake. We don't want to work with any type of bitch you bring in no matter how good they are."

Mr. Pink protested, along with every other man at the table. Apart from Eddie who was quite looking forward to meeting the girls.

"You have no choice, you're working with them. Anyway you haven't even met them yet." Joe smiled, he was old but he wasn't stupid. He knew that if he got the most beautiful women the others would gladly work with them.

"Yeah what makes you so sure," Mr. Pink leaned back in his chair and tried to take a sip of his coffee but the damn thing was empty, "Fucking waitresses." He muttered under his breath.

"Look out of the window," Joe pointed behind Mr. Blue right on to the street.

Sure enough walking towards them was six of the most beautiful women they'd ever seen. The women walked in a line formation, the oldest at one end and the youngest at the other.

"Fuck." All six of them turned to Joe with their jaws swinging open and their eyes popping out of their skulls.

"Calm yourselves, their coming in, I'll introduce you then." Joe stood up to greet the oldest of the group.

"Mr. Blue can I introduce you to Mrs. Blue."

Mrs. Blue was about 50 years of age, her brown hair greyed at the top fell to her sharp cheek bones, she was skinny as a twig but you could tell she was strong. Her eyes were hid behind cat eye shaped sunglasses.

"Mr. White I'd like you to meet Mrs. White."

Mrs. White was not unlike Mrs. Blue. They both were of a similar age, stature and looks. The only difference was Mrs. White had blonde hair cut short, much like the hair cut your mother gives you when you're eight years old and still too young for the hairdressers. Still, it was a look that suited her.

"Mr. Brown this is Mrs. Brown."

Mrs. Brown stood there cigarette in the corner of her mouth and a gin clasped in her right hand. Obscene words were scrawled up her arms, this type of woman you only wanted to meet once and the type you would spend your life trying to avoid. To be blunt Mrs. Brown was lethal.

"Mr. Blonde, Mrs. Blonde"

Mrs. Blonde's name was true to its meaning. She was platinum blonde, and a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe. Mr. Blonde was going to have some fun now.

"Mr. Pink this is Mrs. Pink"

Mrs. Pink was small and sharp, obviously the brains behind the brawn. Not exactly Mr. Pink's type, he looked a bit offended as he walked up to greet her.

"Mr. Orange it's my pleasure to introduce you to Mrs. Orange."

Mrs. Orange was the last to step forward but it was definitely worth the wait. Mr. Orange received a few jealous glances as he crossed the table to meet his counterpart. Her dark hair tumbled down her back, framing her rounded face. She was not skinny. The muscle in her legs showed through her leather trousers, a motorbike rider possibly? Whatever she did Mr. Orange was so fucking pleased to be the youngest.

No-one's emotions were readable. Each face was a mixture of disgust, arousal and curiosity. Plus the sense that the men were undressing the women in their minds was obvious. Bleak glances were shared between the partners, not a soul liked the idea of working with the opposite sex. But work was work and it had to be done.

Joe stood looking at his masterpiece of matchmaking. He was brilliant, everything would work better. These girls were on loan from a good friend of his, nice guy, bit on the perverted side but he was great when you needed a woman on a job. Want a girl who can break in to prisons? He's got six. Need a girl who can carry weapons undetected through a crowed of cops? He knows each and every one.

"We need to get to work." Joe broke the tense silence and walked out, leaving the six pairs to trail out after him.

Each pair talked like anyone would in this situation, small talk. The usual hello, how are you? But other than that it was awkward as fuck. The only ones who talked were the Oranges.

"So you worked for Joe long?" Mr. Orange asked.

"Nope just started, how about you are you one of Cabot's soldiers?" She flinched at the police term for the people who worked for Joe. Mr. Orange was surprised by her use of the phrase 'Cabot's soldiers'. He would let it slip, recognising it might blow his cover.

"I've just started too." His voice was unsettled. Surely she can't be a cop. No, they wouldn't do that. It's stupid to put two undercover cops together like this. Holdaway would tell him if that happened.

They smiled at each other. The small talk had failed, so no more would be said. It just left a silence that Mr. Orange used to stare at his companion. Maybe this job would have some perks.


End file.
